


Sonnets In Your Teeth

by ritazien



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:33:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritazien/pseuds/ritazien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where everyone is gifted with a mark, a tattoo that matches their soulmate's, all Dean Winchester has ever had is scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonnets In Your Teeth

Dean and Sam are crashing in a motel til they can make it back to the bunker. Sam is fast asleep and Dean is staring at the ceiling. Sleep has always been dangerous, and he's woken up to a barrel against his head more than once, but guns he can handle. Hell, death he can handle. He's been round that track a few times. There's still a sinking feeling, though, when he brings his arm up, a sliver of moonlight catching the smooth skin over his wrist, pale in the cold light. He's got scars all over and a tattoo on his chest, but the most important mark is the one that's not there.

It never bothered him. He tells himself it never bothered him. When his classmates were getting their marks and showing them off, he didn't spare a second glance. When Sam was thirteen and the dark silhouette of a badger appeared suddenly, painfully, on his wrist, he refused to resent him for it. He was seventeen, a late bloomer. He was a little messed up, sure, but he was human. He had a soulmate, he would get a mark, he just had to wait a little longer. But adolescence didn't last much longer, and he buried his distress in a pile of bullets. He was a hunter.

He is a hunter.

If he's destined to be alone, that has to be for the best. Dean knows who he is, he knows there isn't exactly a line of people clamoring to be with him. One night stands? Sure. But a lifetime? A year, even?

He's alone.

There was Lisa. Lisa and Ben. She had a tattoo, but she never told him who it matched, if she even knew who it matched, and he never asked. She took him in, she chose to be with him, and that meant something. They weren't soulmates, though, and it ended the only way Dean could expect it to. It had hurt. God, it had hurt. He'd had them, had someone there for him, a family of his own, and they were caught in a war he was barely a part of, ripped away like everything had been. Over and over, and it never got easier. He was just better at shoving it down. The good soldier, he'd always been, and maybe good soldiers don't get soulmates. God knows Sam got the short end with his.

Sometimes he thinks about that, about the pain of loss being worse than the pain of not having it at all. He's used to being empty. He's used to having nothing. So it's justified – if he doesn't have a soulmate, he can't lose them. He's lost enough as it is. For now, he's grateful for the family he does have – Sam, Cas, Kevin... They're dealing in danger, but they've made it this far. Kevin's locked up tight, and Sam... Sam will make it through the trials. He's made it through worse. As for Cas, well, he's doing his own thing, and if Dean's stomach knots up at the thought of him, he can't help that. He can't help it. Cas is in the wind with the angel tablet and that's his choice to make. Dean turns roughly onto his side, jaw tight. It's possible he should just trust him, but what good does that do him when he's not here? After everything, everything they've been through together, what was he thinking? Leaving with the tablet, leaving while Sam was breaking up, leaving Dean alone here-

He snatches his jacket up from the bottom of the bed, landing on his feet and out the door seconds later. It slams shut behind him and he barely remembers that Sam is asleep inside; he stalks across the parking lot of this shitty motel to the Impala. He gets in and slams a tape on, Kansas starting up as he leans back in the seat.

He stares out the window, frustration ebbing, and all he can think is, “Dammit, where are you?” Whether he's talking about his mark or his soulmate or his friend, he doesn't even know.

-

They're in the car, Dean gunning it to get away from the church, get to a hospital, to save Sam, when his hand snaps off the steering wheel in a flash of agony. He doesn't cry out, but he grips the wheel tighter and frowns the rest of the way to the hospital.

Then Sam is being looked at and Dean is forced into a chair outside, and the moment is forgotten.

-

He talks to Cas, finds out he's lost his powers and tells him to haul ass to the bunker. After that, he doesn't hear from him.

He tries not to feel his absence, tries to take care of Sam, as difficult as Sam is making that. There's an angel in his brother and no one he can tell. There's a hole in his heart and no one in the world to fill it.

He starts sleeping better. He has a home now, or as close to one as he's ever had. He has a base, an HQ, and if he gets a little thrill every time he says it like that, it's really nobody's business. Sam spends too much time reading and jogging and Dean drinks too much coffee and causes a little too much destruction (destruction, Sam? Really?) with the various awesome weapons he finds laying around. What, is he going to ignore a mase sitting precariously atop a stack of books? He expects better of the Men of Letters, come on.

“Dean!” Sam snaps, having barely dodged a vase the mase had knocked off a shelf.

Dean slides it onto the table, shrugging.

“Hey, is that-” Sam squints at the camera they'd set up to monitor any guests that might appear – wanted or not. “Cas?”

“What?” Dean follows his brother up the steps, surpassing him two at a time, and wrenches the door open.

Cas is standing there, his hands shoved in the pockets of a worn hoodie. He stares at them both for a moment, looking tired, before Dean pulls him inside by the collar of his shirt and grabs him in a hug. Sam shuts the door behind them and for a blind moment, Dean forget he's there, waiting patiently for Dean to peel himself off Cas, cough, and slap his arm.

“Good to see you, man.”

“It is good to be in your company again,” Cas sighed, glancing between them.

“Yeah, you too, Cas,” Sam laughs. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” he says, and as they start back down into the bunker, Dean smiles, relief settling in his stomach, as well as a familiar melancholy he can't quite place. He lowers his gaze and follows them downstairs.

Sam leaves them at the big, central table and darts off to the kitchen. Dean slides into a seat across from Cas, who is leaning against the back of the chair with a deep breath out.

“So how've you been?” Dean asks, slumped against his own chair.

“I'm tired. I fought my way here. It's chaos out there, Dean,” he says, with that intense stare that still, still sinks into him.

“So we hear,” he mutters. “Listen, Cas, you gotta tell me if there's anything you know.”

“I don't know how to reverse it. I wish I did. This is my fault; I'm sorry. I thought I could trust Metatron.” He looks so defeated, Dean wants to reach out, hug him again, or something, something to let him know they were in this together.

“Yeah, well, you've got a place to stay. Maybe you can help us figure this thing out.” Just don't leave again. He can trust Cas, he knows he can; this one wasn't on him and he was there while it was going down. He's here now. That's all Dean needs to know.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, and Dean nods.

Sam returns then, balancing three plates of sandwiches, and after placing them carefully on the table, he flops into the chair next to Dean.

“You're human now, right?” Sam asks, watching Cas curiously as he eats. Dean's lips twitch at the sight; Cas's eyes close for the first bite as he visibly relaxes around it.

“Yes,” he answers through a mouthful of bread. He swallows and Dean tears his eyes away from his throat as his neck stretches out, and onto his own sandwich. Yeah, he's not that hungry. Cas continues, “It's peculiar.”

“What?” Dean asks, and has to cough to clear his throat.

“I'm familiar with how it is to be human, but the experiences themselves are... not what I expected.”

“I mean, you had feelings and stuff as an angel, right?” Sam asks.

Cas's gaze flickers to Dean, and back to his plate. “Yes. But being human... You two have only ever been human. I'm new to it, it can be overwhelming.”

Sam shrugs, accepting the answer, but Dean watches him a moment longer. He never thought they'd end up here. In a hole in the ground, Cas a human and Dean... Well, Dean is different. He can feel it. But they're back together, the three of them, through all the tribulations and the changes, they ended up here. Team free will. He shakes his head to himself, searching the patterns of the wooden table for some kind of answer, to a question he can't bring himself to ask.

“And this is strange,” Cas says, laying his arm out on the table for them to see. On his wrist, seared unmistakably into the pale skin, is a smattering of black dots, very faintly interwoven with lines. It's kind of beautiful, and Dean feels instantly a buzz in his whole body, but then it's gone and he's left with this, in front of him, proof of Castiel, a former angel, for fuck's sake, having a soulmate.

“Whoa,” Sam says sharply, and leans closer to inspect it. “Cas, when did you get this?”

“If it's gonna be anyone...” Dean says, voice low, unable to take his eyes off the mark. Cas gives him a strange look.

“I noticed it after the fall.”

“You became human and got a soulmate,” Sam huffs, smiling. “How about that.”

“Dean?” Cas prompts, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah, good on you, Cas. Who's the lucky lady?”

“I-” he falters. “I don't know.”

“Well here's hoping you have better luck than us,” Dean says, raising his sandwich in a toast. He rips off a bite and grins at Cas and Sam. Sam snorts and Cas smiles, lips together. Dean stands up then, brushing his hands across his jeans. “Gotta hit the john.”

He walks off and hears Sam start to say something before he turns the corner and speeds up toward the bathroom. Cas has a soulmate now. Of course he does. Everyone does.

Door closed behind him, he shoves the cold water on and leans over the tap. He exhales and starts to roll up his sleeves, when he stops dead. His wrist. His empty, hopeless wrist, like his empty, hopeless soul, is marked. A smattering of dots, interwoven with gentle lines. He grabs a handful of water and scrubs at it, thinking it must be dirt, it must be a coincidence, it must be a mistake. He's not marked. He doesn't have a soulmate. He's a hunter, he's alone, he's fucked up and he doesn't have a soulmate. But the proof is right there. The mark is right there. He touches it, hesitantly, gently, and then he realizes.

“Fuck.”

He scratches, he rips his jacket off and he grimaces until his face aches. He leans against the wall, completely lost. This is new, this is too new, but even that, fuck, even that's a lie. Dean and Cas, they've been through too much, they've known too much of each of each other, they've felt too much... Too much. He clenches his jaw, and starts to think. He starts to think, and what if this was never wrong? He can't honestly say he's never thought about it, he can't honestly say that in the back of his mind he's never wanted this. But it wasn't a real option then. It was damn stupid to even consider it.

Now? Now there's a mark on his wrist telling him different, pointing him to the freshly minted human out there, and his heart lurches at the thought. It's Cas.

It's Cas.

He pushes himself off the wall, filled with a strange resignation because there's no way he can let himself hope for this.

He walks back to Cas, back to Sam and Cas, who both look up at his return.

“Hey, it's the Vela constellation,” Sam says as Dean comes to a stop at the table. “Cas' mark?” he prompts.

“Cas, can I talk to you?” he asks, and they both stand up. Sam shoots him a look, wondering, and he answers with a look of his own. Sam frowns, but says nothing as Cas is dragged down the hall, stopping outside Dean's bedroom.

“Dean,” Cas says roughly, staring at the hand leeched onto his own. Dean releases him, but that's not what he was staring at. He grabs the hand, the wrist, and looks up at him with wide eyes.

“I just found it,” he says quietly.

“You never got yours.”

“Yeah, apparently that was for a reason.”

“But I'm...” The pieces visibly fall into place, and Dean swallows.

“I remember it hurting a few weeks back, I guess I didn't notice it.” He stares at Cas, feeling the tension between his brows, wanting desperately to see what he was thinking. “I don't know-”

“Dean.” Cas was still staring at him, still holding his wrist. He blinks, and steps closer, further into his space. “I...” His lashes flicker.

“I know,” he says, and he does. He knows. It's Cas.

Cas, who moves closer again, and then his lips are against Dean's and Dean is kissing him back, hard, hand on the back of his neck, and yes, yes, this is right. He can feel it throughout his body and he presses closer, closer, needing to feel all of him, and then he's pushed roughly back the wall, the air knocked out of him. His head spins and Cas's mouth is on his throat and he doesn't know how he missed this.

“Cas,” he rasps, and Cas' mouth is back on his, and he pushes his hands through that dark hair. Cas' hand is on his waist, the other on his chest, fingers closing around his shirt in a fist, and his lips part easily to let Dean in. Dean's tongue swipes his bottom lip and he breaks and presses them together, feeling Cas melt against him. Dean tugs on his hair, lightly, and Cas's hand flattens against his chest.

“Dean,” he groans, turning his head away. Dean lets his fall onto his shoulder, and he turns into his neck.

Slowly, he lifts his head, his hands falling away but catching on Cas's hips; now that he can touch him, he's not sure he'll ever stop.

“You okay?” he asks, feeling hot under that stare.

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “But I think you should talk to Sam.” He looks so sincere, Dean actually laughs, and then he notices the figure at the end of the hall.

“Something you want to tell me, Dean?”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Thank you and bless you for reading.  
> 2\. The title is from the song Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys.  
> 3\. The Vela constellation is a real constellation, which I found on the internet (aren't I clever?). It represents the sails of a ship, so, you know, that was perfect and awesome, and also, “the skies in Vela are rich with double stars and small star clusters” and I just really like astronomy and Cas and Dean deserve all the pretty things.  
> 4\. One of the things I love about Dean/Cas is that they are absolutely not soul mates. They're kind of the opposite. The universe (fate, the angels, every other thing out there) didn't want them to be together, but they kept fighting to get to a place where they could be. Obviously that didn't work out most of the time, but ugh. They broke every rule. They were each other's exception. They were the universe's exception. But I was on a soulmates AU kick and I couldn't resist writing this, so.


End file.
